Immortal Flight
by Lightless
Summary: A response to a Voldemort genderbend challenge. Assuming Hermione has been sent back to 1944 and became besotted with the Tom Riddle of that time, she dreams of him as a her.


It was like a dream.

In the morning, after a very passioned night last night, Hermione awoke, remembering that she should be in the Head Boy's room after a night like that. The covers felt right, silky and smooth against her bare body, with the pillows just the right amount of fluff combined with a comfortable coolness that is so rare in a pillow that's been slept in all night. Pulling her consciousness further to the realm of the awake, she shifted and brought her hands up over her head to stretch.

"And she awakens," said a feminine voice to her left.

Her bushy hair whipped about her face with the force she used to look at the source of that voice. Before her was a striking face, beautiful in a way she only thought possible on models. The eyes were dark, hair the starkest black and falling about this stranger's face in soft waves, barely obscuring the curve of sultry lips as they smirked at her from across the familiar bed.

"Excuse me, but... who are you?" Hermione was perplexed, so much so that it only took her until then to realize that not only was she naked, but the woman across from her was as well. Unconsciously, Hermione grasped the covers to cover herself even more.

"Very funny," came the retort, in a voice Hermione knew was not at all amused. It showed in her face, as well, the lack of amusement of this woman who took the place of...

Tom.

The woman lifted her side of the covers, and stepped onto the floor, rising without any sense of shame or decency. With her back towards Hermione, the bushy haired girl couldn't help but stare and wonder what sort of sorcery this was. Before her stood a girl that, by all means, should be replaced by the Head Boy of the school.

Still, Hermione couldn't help but notice the similarities between Tom and this woman. Black hair, dark eyes, beautiful and enchanting, with curves and skin she couldn't help but admire. Did Tom have a sister? No, that was ridiculous.

When the woman lifted a wand of long, pale wood, Hermione couldn't deny the conclusion her mind was drawn to. When Tom (what was the feminine form of Tom even?) lifted her wand and swished it over herself, robes appeared upon her figure. She turned around, fully dressed with a Head Girl badge adorning her robes just above the Slytherin crest.

In the words of Ronald Weasley, _bloody hell. _And of course she looked immaculate, how could she not?

"Come, Hermione. We shan't keep them waiting, no matter how much you might like a repeat of last night."

_Last night_?

Hermione's head was reeling. What did this mean for the world in which she now lived? Was everyone going to be different now? Was Hermione any different? No, she wouldn't be, seeing as Hermione was a feminine name, and... Tina (no, that's ridiculous) had referred to her as such. Not to mention, the obviousness of what body parts she could feel.

All right, Hermione, calm down. This woman's apparently seen you naked before, just as Tom would have, so there's nothing wrong with getting out of bed with her here. So with that thought in mind, she first started looking for her wand, as she didn't want to rush about looking for it without anything on.

And just as Tom would have, the woman extended her graceful hand, Hermione's wand held out towards her.

Huffing, Hermione reached towards it and took it without more fuss. "Thank you," she bit out, exasperated as she remembered her own recollection of what had happened last night. She knew the woman would be amused, probably smirking again, as Hermione stood and dressed herself with another simple flick of a wand.

"Lead the way," she said as soon as she finished gathering her things.

And the Head Girl did, out of the room they went, and with a glance backwards Hermione confirmed that she had been, indeed, in the Head Girl's room, as they walked out into the hall of a familiar Hogwarts. Now, if only to see just how much had changed... Would she have to get to know absolutely everyone over again? What about the teachers? What was her first class again?

Before classes, however, there was breakfast, and she hesitated as she saw what she knew was supposedly Tom Riddle make her way over to the Slytherin table with the perfect poise that was present in her male form. Without further doubting, Hermione cast her eyes onto the staff table, and with a sigh of relief, she found Armando Dippet tucking into his breakfast as though nothing had changed. Looking around further, she found an auburn-haired Albus Dumbledore chatting kindly with a polite Galatea Merrythought. Professor Slughorn, looking the same as ever, had apparently taken a break from talking to the other professors himself, for it seemed as though he was eating with as much vigor as Headmaster Dippet.

So not everything was wacky. Only apparently the fact that she was now a lesbian with the most powerful student in the school. Was this as known to the student body as the rumors of her dating Tom were? Better assume as such, as they didn't exactly take any precautions pretending to not have spent the night together. But honestly, as if being sent back to 1944 wasn't _enough_. With one look sent to the Gryffindor table, she decided she might as well follow this female Tom to where she was going to sit. And that's how she, a Gryffindor, had found her place at the Slytherin table, much to the amusement of the girl sitting next to her.

"How nice of you to join us," she said with a smile, and an unmistakable glint in her eye.

Hermione couldn't help but notice the number of men that surrounded the both of them, now. Before it didn't seem strange, as it was the 1940s and Tom Riddle had himself a band of friends that were nearly all men. Now that he was a girl, however... she wondered just how much about the dynamic between leader and follower changed in that regard. Surely they weren't following her because of her looks? Looking around again, Hermione noticed more than a few of them were giving her the stink eye. Was it out of jealousy?

"Perhaps this was a mistake," she said quietly, so only her... lover could hear.

"Nonsense," was the reply she got, with a smile, "It's a great change of pace to watch them squirm with something other than fear. Besides," a slender hand made its way to her waist, "The reminder of their place is a welcome one."

No one dared to say anything to Hermione throughout breakfast, and unfortunately, everyone who spoke to the woman next to her simply referred to her as "Riddle" throughout the morning. So her last name stayed the same; that helps a lot!

Maybe she could just ask someone of her house... But how weird would that look, Hermione asking her girlfriend's name? More importantly, this strange new world... how permanent was this? This didn't make any sense. As she sat down in Transfiguration, she got her first answer in the form of Dumbledore calling upon a "May" to answer his question.

May Riddle? That wasn't close to Tom at all. Nor was it a family member's name... Was it only that way to fit the anagram? That didn't make any sense, either. Well, it might, if this world had loopy origins. Merope... she wouldn't have named her daughter after herself, or her husband. What was Voldemort's grandmother's name? Hermione couldn't remember. She supposed it could've been May...

"May," she said quietly as the girl finished replying to Dumbledore, and she glanced down at Hermione with a lifted eyebrow. Hermione couldn't help but notice how tall she was, so like Tom...

"Hermione," she replied just as quietly, as if mocking the other girl when she neglected to say anything else.

It wasn't until their free period that May thought it time to acknowledge how strange Hermione had been acting.

"What did you mean, this morning? You looked as though I were a stranger, terrified out of your wits to find me in my own bed, and then in Dumbledore's class, you spoke my name as if you had never heard it before."

Should Hermione lie? She had already tried to play it off as though she knew what was going on, but apparently that had failed. She couldn't see any reason to lie, other than lying to Voldemort only felt right. She hardly knew anything about this one, though.

"Tell me my name, Hermione," May demanded before the other girl could make up her mind.

"May Riddle," Hermione offered.

"My full name. You've called me it before," she challenged, eyebrow cocking.

"I'm sorry. I... I don't know your middle name. There's been some mistake," Hermione couldn't help the sinking feeling she had in her stomach.

"Moltova, after my grandmother," she offered simply, "You knew this once. Perhaps you're suffering from some sort of memory charm?"

"If I am, it has to be the most cruel sort of joke," Hermione admitted, her mind taking the girl's full name and wondering...

"Now the other name. Do you know that one?" May was close, now, very close, speaking so very quietly against Hermione's ear.

"Lady Voldemort," Hermione whispered back, this situation far too surreal to be afraid, "You... Your name... You're really..."

"This is why I like you, Hermione. So clever, even with a handicap," May's hand rested on her face, stroking her cheek gently with a thumb, "Though I hate to say it, I already knew you'd worked that out before today."

And without warning, the beauty in May's face began to flake, to melt, to _reform_ into something terrifying, something far more familiar to Hermione than the girl that had previously been in front of her. Something with slits for a nose, without hair, but retaining a slender neck and a feminine figure underneath the thin, billowy robe that fell around her as if it were made to.

With that last image of Lady Voldemort still fresh in her memory, Hermione awoke.


End file.
